


The Proposal

by OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: Sherlock is suddenly interested in John's marital status - kind of - and John has no idea why.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 199





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyTuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTuesday/gifts).



“Are you still married?” Sherlock asked.

“What?” John said, raising his eyes from his periodical. He was woefully behind on his professional reading but still tried to make an effort.

Their evenings were predictable, in as much as their life ever was. When there wasn’t a case, the darkness fell on Baker Street with figures in familiar places. Rosie in bed, bunny cuddled tight; John in his chair, fighting the growing pile of journals on the table beside him. Sherlock was still able to curl himself into that chair, a feat that made John shake his head. For all the years that had passed since their first meeting, some things had hardly changed. Dark curls, the same coat, long fingers steepled under his chin. John’s chair showed him an image breathtakingly similar to that first year. This was a glimpse into the past, before things got complicated.

“Legally speaking,” Sherlock added, as though it had been clearly implied.

“No,” John said. “No,” he added, as though saying it twice made it more true.

The silence fell over them again, but this time John’s brain wouldn’t let him concentrate on the article in the _Lancet_. He drew a breath to speak, but his nerve failed him. Another breath, another failure…and another, and another, until he finally blurted the question.

“Why?”

“Why?” Sherlock repeated. His eyes flew open, settling immediately on John. It was impossible to see what colour they were from across the room, and colours flew through John’s mind.

_Azure. Sky. Aquamarine. Teal. Smoke._

He blinked, pulling himself back to the conversation.

“Yes,” John said. “Why did you ask about…if I was still married?”

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully as though John has posseted the meaning of life. He took a few moments, eyes probing John before he spoke.

“We should get married.”

“We,” John said. “We, as in you and I?” He put down the periodical, giving up on trends in paediatric surgery for the moment.

“Yes,” Sherlock said. “Who else would I mean?”

John opened his mouth to reply but realised he had no words. Instead he watched Sherlock, wondering what had prompted this. It was out of the blue, as far as John could tell, though there would undoubtedly be some kind of connection to Sherlock. The emotions that rose were hardly new – resignation at his lack of understanding, frustration at the same, amusement at his predictability.

Neither of them moved until Sherlock turned his head, closing his eyes again. John watched him for another minute or so, wondering why he was letting the conversation fade. Hell, they were both letting it go; the silence between them was too thick to push through right now. Technically Sherlock had just asked a question, but John didn’t even know how to reply. The answer was too big and small at the same time, and he wouldn’t know where to begin.

When Sherlock didn’t reply, John picked up his periodical, flipping back to the same page. He read through the article again, but part of his brain was still musing over Sherlock’s question.

_Who else would I mean?_


	2. Chapter 2

“Why would you think we should get married?”

It had taken John several nights to find the courage to bring up the subject. A case had arrived, taking both their attention, and then he’d worked several evening shifts in apology to the practice manager. But now there were no further excuses and once again he sat with a journal open but ignored in favour of conversation with Sherlock.

“A number of reasons present themselves,” Sherlock replied, his voice far more relaxed than his nervous eyes would suggest.

“Perhaps they do,” John said, deciding he did have the energy for this conversational dance. It was an important conversation by anybody’s standards but even moreso given it was Sherlock who’d raised the idea. “And which one occurred first to you?”

He waited, comfortable with the assessing gaze as Sherlock considered his answer.

“Though we live ostensibly as roommates,” he replied, “an argument could be made for our de facto relationship.”

“It could?” John replied. Whatever he thought Sherlock might say, this was not it. “How so?”

“Though we inhabit separate bedrooms,” Sherlock replied, “we share many aspects of our lives more intimately than roommates tend to do. I am an emergency contact for Rosie and take on some of the responsibility for decisions regarding her care.”

John held in a snort at this last statement. His view of Sherlock and responsibility were generally fairly derisive, but now he forced himself to consider the statement on its own merits.

Sherlock had moved many of his belongings to make space for baby paraphernalia.

The kitchen was now actually food safe.

He’d shifted his nighttime violin program, playing quiet, soothing music rather than the screeching cacophony he used to favour.

When they were on a case he held his tongue while John paused to make arrangements for Rosie. Well, mostly.

By other people’s standards, John did everything.

But when had they ever judged themselves by other people’s standards?

“I’ve noticed,” John said, not quite sure how long it was since Sherlock had spoken. “Don’t suppose I’ve told you that, have I?”

“I don’t believe so,” Sherlock replied dryly, and they shared a smile. It was the kind of moment John knew could be easily misconstrued by an outsider. He’d long ago stopped caring about what other people thought, but he was still quite aware whenever something like this happened.

“Thanks,” John said. “You’ve done a lot to accommodate Rosie. And me.”

“Rosie and I,” Sherlock corrected, and his tone was meant to sound absent but the slight smile gave him away.

_He knows I haven’t really noticed. Not before now._

The rest of the evening passed much as it often did, though John’s brain was not as clear of his original question as he had initially hoped. In the end their short conversation raised more questions than it answered. John opened his mouth to continue where they’d left off, but he could see Sherlock’s brain was deep in some thought.

_I can see he’s concentrating._

_I should let him think. Least I can do._

They would need to talk more, but not tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

“I know you did not initially notice the accommodations I made for you and Rosie,” Sherlock started. “But I would prefer to modify something you would appreciate.”

John had been taken by surprise by the start of Sherlock’s statement, and the second half was just as astonishing. The dull pain in his wrist finally reminded him of his full cup of tea, hanging in mid-air. Bringing the tea to his mouth gave him a couple of seconds to process Sherlock’s words. By the time he looked up, Sherlock was standing over his chair.

_Arms crossed._

_Shoulders hunched._

_Brow creased._

Defensive as hell, John realised. For all Sherlock’s declarations of John’s inability to notice things, he was quite good at reading Sherlock.

“Okay,” John said carefully. He returned his cup to its saucer before continuing. “Did you have any ideas?”

“No, John,” Sherlock said, in his ‘I’m being supremely patient’ voice, which was from anyone else would sound tense and strained. “Hence my question to you.”

John nodded, thinking. “I do appreciate the things you changed.”

Sherlock stared. “You didn’t notice until I pointed them out,” he said.

“I know,” John said, feeling like a complete arse. “I think I was just used to the status quo.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I asked you to change a lot of things for a long time, and you didn’t.” The harsh truth made his voice drop to almost a whisper. “I think I just got used to things being the way they were.”

“You didn’t consider that I would change,” Sherlock said.

“No,” John replied. “I don’t suppose I did.”

He watched Sherlock consider this for a few minutes.

“But now,” Sherlock said, flicking a glance to John, “you understand that I will?”

“I do,” John replied. “Thank you,” he added when it seemed Sherlock wasn’t finished with the conversation.

“I don’t do that for anybody, John,” Sherlock said, seating himself carefully on the edge of his seat.

“I know,” John replied. Sherlock was obviously hinting at something. For someone usually so direct, he seemed entirely reluctant to be clear in this conversation.

_How important is this to him?_

“I’m making quite a significant effort at this, John,” Sherlock said quietly.

“I know,” John replied again, feeling foolish that he couldn’t tell where this was coming from. _You thought you could read him so well._

“This relationship is important to me, John,” Sherlock replied. “I would not make such an effort for anyone else.”

John nodded. “Is this about the idea of us getting married?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sherlock replied.

“Okay,” John said, casting his mind back to their previous conversation. “You said one reason was the way we both care for Rosie.”

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

“You said there were a number of reasons,” John said. “Is this another reason?”

Sherlock sat forward, his eyes locked on John. “It is,” he said seriously. “Partners go out of their way to accommodate each other.”

“They do,” John said.

“And they live together,” Sherlock said.

“Usually,” John allowed, ignoring the fact that they did not actually live together in that manner.

“And they care equally for their children,” Sherlock added.

“Yeah, Sherlock…” John started, but he was not entirely sure where that sentence was going.

“I just want you to think about it, John,” Sherlock said quietly.

John stared. “I will,” he replied.

_How can I think about anything else?_


	4. Chapter 4

“Sherlock,” John said, waiting until he turned from his microscope, “has someone made some kind of…comment about us?”

Sherlock blinked, and John was about to clarify what he was talking about when he saw understanding flash over Sherlock’s face.

“People are stupid,” Sherlock said shortly, “and their opinion means nothing to me.”

Without another word he stood up, flouncing away from the table and clattering down the stairs. When the external door slammed, John sighed. Clearly he’d been way off base on that one. Sherlock obviously realised he was talking about the marriage thing again; it had only been a couple of days ago Sherlock had asked him to think about it. John had done almost nothing else but in the intervening hours. This was one of the ideas that had come to him. Was there someone making assumptions about them? About their relationship? Maybe Sherlock would feel more comfortable with some legal backup, when it came to it.

Sherlock didn’t return for several hours, and when he did – formula and bananas in hand for Rosie, John saw with a stab of guilt – he chattered along with Rosie while entirely ignoring John. There were only a few hours until Rosie was in bed so John endured it until he’d kissed her little face, lingering for a second before he tiptoed carefully down the stairs.

“Right,” he said, sluping in his chair, “do you want to talk about it or sulk?”

Sherlock blinked. “Talk about what?” he asked.

“Clearly I was wrong when I asked if people were commenting about us,” John said. “I’d rather address it.”

Sherlock blinked. “You never want to talk about it,” he said.

“Isn’t that what partners do?” John asked, keeping his voice serious. He did not want Sherlock to think he was mocking at all.

“They do,” Sherlock said slowly. “In that case, you were incorrect in your assumption. There has been no undue external influence.”

John nodded. This was incredibly weird. The response about partners hadn’t really been thought through, but it was the right thing. They did need to talk, like adults if not partners.

“I guess I just don’t know what might have triggered this whole idea,” John said. “I’m not asking you to justify it. I guess it just surprised me.”

Sherlock nodded. “I am an observer,” he said. “And since Rosie has become part of our household, the dynamic has shifted.”

“Is that a problem?” John asked tentatively.

Sherlock didn’t appear angry though. “No,” he said thoughtfully. “I would have thought I would be more irritated. The change intrigued me and I began to observe us more closely.”

John nodded. He thought he could see where this was going. “And you wanted to put a label on our relationship?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” Sherlock replied. “But I realised other people did.”

“Other people wanted to define our relationship?” John repeated.

“I noted the confusion far more frequently,” Sherlock replied. “And while nobody asked me outright, it became clear it would be easier if…” he trailed off.

“If we were married,” John finished.

Sherlock simply nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you want to adopt Rosie?” John asked.

Sherlock froze, his fingers still as they held the tweezers. He’d been working on this problem for ages, and John had long ago given up trying to read. Watching Sherlock work like this – quiet and focussed as he tried to put the shredded documents back together – was soothing.

“Adopt Rosie?” Sherlock repeated. He glanced at John, his loupe caught between his eyebrow and cheek. “Why would that be required?”

John shrugged. “It wouldn’t,” he said. “I mean, unless something happened to me, but I’m sure your brother could make sure she stayed with you.”

Sherlock was still looking at John, but he put down his tweezers and reached up, setting the jewellers’ eyeglass beside it on the table. “I would be prepared to do so if you wished,” Sherlock said.

John nodded, thinking. It was a bit weird that Sherlock was watching him, obviously waiting for the conversation to continue. Usually he’d have either ignored John or replied so absently he might not even remember they’d spoken.

_Partners talk to each other._

The echo of their conversation came back to John and he wondered if Sherlock was thinking the same.

“Is this about the marriage conversation?” Sherlock asked finally.

“Yeah,” John said, swallowing his fear. “I guess I just don’t…I don’t understand. Why you suggested it. And I know you’ve explained, but I know you pretty well and I can tell there’s something else.” He shrugged. “If you really want us to get married, I need to know why. The whole reason.”

Sherlock nodded. He didn’t speak for long enough John wondered if he would at all.

“I need to think,” Sherlock said finally. “Don’t touch this.” He flicked his eyes back as his coat swirled around, landing on his body like magic. “Please.”

“Of course,” John replied. At Sherlock headed down the stairs, John’s eyes remained on the door. Usually he’d have thought of Sherlock as clattering down the stairs, but he was almost silent. The reason occurred to him immediately.

_Rosie._

John swallowed. Sherlock would be okay; he had to trust in that, despite the lingering fear that he would do something reckless or even stupid. They’d come a long way since Sherlock was climbing needlessly over rooftops and walking into meetings with killers without backup. And God only knew how much was going on in that brain of his.

Trying to read the journal open on his lap was fruitless, so John walked to the kitchen, intending to make tea. A flash of bright yellow caught his eye and he ducked, pulling the square of heavy crafting paper from under his chair.

_When I wish upon a star…_

A worksheet from Rosie’s preschool, her scrawled spelling of her name uneven across the top of the page. Careful, clear grownup writing completed the sentence, and John’s ears burned to know another adult had read Rosie’s wish.

_When I wish upon a star, I wish for Daddy and Papa to get married. Then we can be a family._

John blinked tears away, more of his conversation rising in his mind.

_Other people want to define our relationship._

The paper shook a little as John started to see what Sherlock was doing.

They would have to talk. As soon as Sherlock returned.


	6. Chapter 6

Tea wasn’t enough; John was drinking whiskey by the time Sherlock came back in. He'd poured a scant two fingers, deliberately savouring it so he could be clear headed. This was not a conversation to be attempted under the influence. He could feel Sherlock’s surprise that he was still up, but to his relief the detective dropped into his chair, the tails of his coat still fluttering where he’d flung it over the sofa.

“You left my experiment,” Sherlock said quietly.

John shrugged. “You asked me to.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, but it closed again before he spoke.

John swallowed the last of his whiskey, his throat still burning as the heavy glass landed on the table. Sherlock was watching him, his body carefully arranged to look more relaxed than he felt.

_Was this the kind of thing people noticed about their…roommates? Friends? Partners?_

“This marriage conversation,” John said quietly. “Maybe we can have the rest of it now. Get it sorted.”

Sherlock nodded.

John had done little else except think about how to phrase his question, yet his mouth was still dry as he shaped the words. “Can you tell me why it’s so important we get married? Why it’s so important to you, I mean.”

Sherlock’s answer was more immediate than he anticipated.

“I care for you more than anybody. I’ve denied the value of emotional attachment for a long time, but Rosie’s arrival demonstrated with irrefutable proof the importance such sentiment can play.”

John nodded, his heart pounding. “And it made you think about the kind of relationship you and I have?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said.

_Holy…wow._

“I care for you too,” John said quietly. “And if you want to adopt Rosie, we don’t have to get married for that to happen. Or the rest of the things you’ve mentioned about being partners. The way we talk to each other, and consider each other, even the bit about being emergency contacts for Rosie and each other…none of that needs us to get married.”

Sherlock nodded, frowning. “I am inexperienced,” he said. “But I understand part of the reason people get married is to ensure their connection.”

A rush of understanding was chased by relief. This was it. The reason, the _real_ reason Sherlock had been skirting around this conversation for weeks.

“You’re worried I’ll leave,” John said.

The nod was so small as to barely exist, but Sherlock’s bobbing curls confirmed John had not been seeing things. Biting back the first impulse to reassure Sherlock, John thought about it. He recalled the few dates he’d had since Rosie arrived, remembering how quickly he’d abandoned them when Sherlock called, or how reluctant he’d been to call again, even when they were all the things he’d previously looked for in a partner. Could he picture himself dating anyone again? To Sherlock, it must seem as though he wasn't content with their life. Was that true?

_Be honest, John. Nothing compares to this life with Sherlock._

“You understand that if we get married, people will assume,” John took a deep breath, “there’ll be talk about us. Some of it not very nice, probably.”

“There is already talk, John,” Sherlock said. “Statistically, married couples are less likely to be the source of sensationalist gossip, whether same sex or not.”

John couldn’t help grinning. He reckoned Sherlock was bullshitting that ‘statistically’ bit, but his voice was so confident, and it was so familiar. He felt a rush of affection.

“We might need to work out some details,” he said, “but if it’s important to you,” impulsively he scooted forward, resting on one knee before Sherlock’s chair, “Sherlock Holmes will you marry me?”

Sherlock looked at him for a long time before he answered.

“No need for dramatics, John.”

John rolled his eyes, heart thumping. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said. “Cuppa?”

Sherlock, hands already steepled under his chin, opened his eyes. “Thank you, John,” he said, and the warm words were clearly for more than the offer of tea.


End file.
